Scarecrow
by Flying Machine
Summary: Oneshot. He toys with his team, stands in the rain, and reflects on everyone's certain insanity, but Hatake Kakashi knows all the time that there's more and less to shinobi life than that.


_A. N. Huh. This is the shortest piece I've ever written—I don't think I've ever written a thing under a thousand words. Also, I'm not entirely sure why I've subcategorized this as "humor," except that it takes place during the infamous "Want to Look, Know and Confirm Kakashi-sensei's Face" episode, so it can't help but include some stupidity. And then there's the title's pun on Kakashi. But beside that. Cynical-silly. Enjoy. Please review._****

****

****

**Scarecrow**

**Flying Machine**

Why Haruno Sakura was stalking him, he was not entirely sure. Nor was he particularly concerned about it. But he knew that there was a twelve-year-old girl crouching in the bushes, and he found it vaguely odd. Yesterday it had been Naruto. He'd only really bother to be surprised if tomorrow it was Sasuke—Sasuke didn't usually play games.

Today the world was the off-putting mottled purple of an old bruise, and the sky was raining straight down. Kakashi liked the little monument glade best in the rain because that's the way it had been when he'd first visited it. It seemed appropriate, correct. Yeah, he knew he'd dug himself into emotional stagnancy and spent more time than was healthy in the past, but so did half the people he'd ever met. And shinobi should be entitled to their neuroses, damn it.

Since they weren't entitled to much else of their own.

Kakashi caught a glimpse of his student shifting restlessly in the shrubs, growing progressively more edgy in the downpour. He tried his best not to laugh aloud, lest he give himself away. Sakura was monitoring his decoy's lack of movement in such an intense parody of professionalism. To be honest, her stealth skills were pretty good for her level of experience, but she was still a cadet trying to tail someone who'd taught her half the tricks she knew. Long story short: it had been an easy thing to prop up the uniformed and bewigged scarecrow, and to then conceal himself amid the trees before she'd even managed to catch up with him from her theoretically cunning sentry post outside his apartment house.

Sometimes Kakashi's Genin proved to be great toys.

_Shit, who in their right mind would give _me_ a bunch of kids to rear into soldiers? Right. Thanks, Sandaime. _It wasn't that Kakashi didn't like his team—no lie, he treasured them—but he just felt it was more likely than not they'd grow up even a tad more insane than the average crazy ninja. And they would inherit a little portion of that insanity from him.

_Even so. I've just been skewered with a katana for seventy-two hours straight. I've just been released from the hospital. I've earned a little entertainment now. _

Sakura was looking impatient. That was to be expected—it had been over an hour since she'd started watching Kakashi's scarecrow and he'd started watching her. With no trouble, he could have left the place for somewhere drier and for something more productive, but he was interested in observing his pursuer's reaction when she finally understood she'd been duped. Besides, he wasn't going to skip out on his daily time spent at the memorial.

Suddenly Sakura darted forward and skidded around on the wet stone to stare at her counterfeit sensei's sackcloth face and shriek in shock and frustration. Her real sensei's eyes crinkled in amusement from twenty feet away. The sodden girl griped loudly and struck out violently at nothing in particular, finally wandering away with defeated shoulders.

Allowing a few minutes to tick by in order to make sure she'd really left, Kakashi strolled out and stood next to his straw twin in the circle surrounding the simple mass-gravestone. The rain had dragged his grey hair down into his right eye. He left it there and just smirked at his creation.

Well. Scarecrows. _This is all Konoha shinobi really are, I guess. We attach a lot of weird airs to the job to convince ourselves it's worth it, but when you come right down to it, we're all just instruments of practicality—stupid dolls that stand and frighten away dark shapes on the horizon because real people don't want to do it themselves. Clever devices to keep hungry things away from home territory. And that's okay. _

Kakashi glanced once to the glassy blue cenotaph.

_And sometimes we fall in a strong wind. _


End file.
